In the Dark
by Tamer of Light
Summary: AU. Inspired by this quote from "The Dead of Night:" Once upon a time, Ian's dark, dreamy eyes had made her melt inside. The angle of his head, the wrinkle in the left corner of his lip – they'd obsessed her. And he'd been obsessed right back.


**Notes:** This is super duper AU and probably somewhat OOC. It is not recommended for the kiddies (which is a good chunk of this fandom, I think). I wrote this awhile ago so it's been on my tumblr and if you're on Tumblr, feel free to check out "the39fics" - a blog dedicated to _The 39 Clues_ fanfiction. This is inspired by a quote from _The Dead of Night_.

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_Once upon a time, Ian's dark, dreamy eyes had made her melt inside. The angle of his head, the wrinkle in the left corner of his lip – they'd obsessed her. And he'd been obsessed right back._

Amy Cahill was downright wasted.

Well, almost.

If only Grace could see her now.

But consequences be damned because it was all that _Kabra_'s fault.

The younger Cahills had gathered after a branch meeting at a local club in Paris. Sinead had insisted on dressing Amy before the meeting because apparently, as she had dramatically proclaimed, "You don't wear knit sweaters and baggy jeans to a club." Amy's long and loud protests had gone ignored and she found herself kidnapped and forced into her best friend's (one could call deadly) grasp.

Amy Cahill did not belong in a club, of all places. She was the bookish nerd – her home was in libraries.

Every level of the club was dark and hazy with a fog that became illuminated in the many colors of the rainbow by the slow strobing lights that permeated the club's atmosphere. Glaring bursts of vibrant light highlighted the floor below her, shining on the various faces in the crowd. Bodies swayed back and forth to the pulsating vibrations of the music, hands caressed and hints of skin flashed with the lights.

Yes, this was definitely not where Amy belonged.

Somehow the female Starling had forced Amy into stilettos and a rich plum dress that was short enough that she wouldn't be a grandma (Sinead's words), but long enough that she wouldn't disgrace the Cahill name into scandalous existence. Her hair had been pinned up into a complicated knot and she dared not touch it for fearing Sinead's wrath. The Ekat had warned that should even a single strand come loose, Amy would be required to sing karaoke with her at the next family reunion. And since there was no way in hell Amy was going to do that, she avoided going anywhere near her head.

Feeling the warm atmosphere of the club, she raised the back of her hand to her forehead and let out a breathy sigh. The private booth that Jonah had secured was lavish with gold embossed walls, dark leather sofas and scarlet curtains for privacy. They had also been afforded a balcony view from the second level of the rest of the club below. After some idle chatter and a few drinks, the Cahills had all split up. Jonah had run off with Hamilton to, as he put it, "hook a bro up." Sinead had slipped away to dance after spotting a cute Frenchman enter the club.

The redhead shook her head and a brief smile appeared on her lips, before she took another sip of her mojito and turned around to lean against the railing. She didn't know if it was her surroundings or the temperature of the club, but she was feeling less herself – less guarded than usual. Then again, maybe it was because of five drinks she had had since they arrived.

Out of the corner of her vision, a slight movement caught her attention. The silhouette of _his_ form pulled her gaze toward him. Ian Kabra.

He had grown up. Tall, dark and all kinds of devastatingly handsome in one gorgeous package. She couldn't help, but stare at him. From the smooth panes of his cinnamon skin and the rugged angles of his face to his chiseled jaw and long fingers, Ian Kabra still managed to take her breath away. And more, if her body's sudden spike to high temperatures was anything to go by. Dark ebony hair swept across his head in shadows that lit up as the prisms of light flashed. His dark gray Armani suit made Amy's mouth dry and the open collar of his crisp white shirt teased what lay underneath.

When they first saw each other that night, she studiously avoided looking at him for fear of lingering too long and what might appear in her mind if she did. So with all the resolve she could muster, Amy forced herself, for the sake of her dignity, to not be affected - or in other words, to not blush to high heaven.

Then she saw an unappealing sight standing beside him. A tall, long-legged statuesque model standing next to him, hanging off his arm. Her eyes were sparkling like gems as she laughed and smiled perfect white teeth at his every word. Amy's face wrinkled into a tense frown as she gripped her glass tightly, downing the rest of the drink in one gulp.

She felt the spread of the alcohol down to her toes, effortlessly cooling her heated body. "You probably shouldn't have done that." A voice cut her thoughts.

Amy looked to her right and saw Natalie Kabra standing there in all her glittery glory. At this point, the redhead was halfway to drunk and beyond caring what anyone thought at this point. After all, wasn't that the point of being young – to do reckless things? She gave an indifferent shrug and raised her glass to the waiter standing near their booth.

"She's a friend." Natalie tilted her head pointedly, her pretty dark locks swinging to the side. Neither Cahill needed to say out loud what was already obvious. The little bookworm still had feelings for the Lucian bad boy.

Amy turned around to face the dance floor again, more so to avoid the younger girl's shrewd gaze. The air felt hot against her damp skin and she longed to feel the cool rush again. _I'm going to be an alcoholic at this rate_, she idly thought. Her head was spinning and she could barely organize her thoughts clearly, but she didn't care. "A very pretty one," she replied softly, her fingers running along the smooth metal railing.

A perfectly plucked eyebrow rose. "Who are we kidding here, Amy?" The Lucian heiress scoffed disbelievingly.

Preferring to keep her dignity intact, Amy said nothing, opting to sip more of her new drink. "My dearest brother," Natalie began tersely with a roll of her eyes, "is a boy. And Lucian or not, he can be a little thick in the head, shall we say?" She dismissively waved manicured fingers in his direction, ignoring the beautiful girl that was now essentially pressing her barely-covered chest into her brother's face.

"You and my brother have been dancing around this for far too long," She crossed the distance and stood beside the redhead, both of them staring ahead. "It's getting boring and just plain sad." An unexpected mixture of mild amusement and exasperation coursed through Amy. Heaven forbid if Natalie Kabra got bored.

"So?" Amy's eyes narrowed, suddenly wary of where this conversation was heading. There was good reason why Lucians were fearless strategists.

"_So_ find your spine, Amy Cahill and _take what's yours._" Her straightforward answer was a bucket of cold water on Amy's dream-like state and for a minute, she regained some of her sensibility.

"_What_?" The word came out as a hiss as she dared not elevate her voice.

"Are you, the leader of the Madrigals, going to let some classless French bimbo win?"

Her spine went noticeably rigid as green eyes snapped to Ian. Then her gaze fell back down to the contents of her glass, still steadfastly avoiding Natalie. "Or are you going to be a bloody _Cahill_ and step up?"

If it was possible, the music had gotten even louder and Amy's head swarmed from the stifling humidity and piercing beat. She was a Cahill, for god's sake. _She_wanted _him_. Natalie looked at her with knowing eyes and held up a shot glass of amber liquid.

She reached over to grasp the small glass and with slight curiousness, let it slide down. Tears swiftly sprang in her eyes as she tried not to choke. Her throat burned fiercely at the prickling sensation, but warmth spread throughout her body so rapidly, Amy felt immediately lightheaded. The redhead turned to Natalie and saw a cool smirk on her perfect face. "Make me proud."

Steeling herself with all the confidence her body could afford, Amy straightened and moved toward her target. Now she was probably, most likely wasted, but state of mind be damned if she was going to lose Ian Kabra to some faceless stranger. Good thing, the alcohol was helping with her bravery at the moment, because she was sure she was going to be mortified into the next century come morning. But at least until then, Amy had never felt more alive.

And she was going to seduce the pants off Ian Kabra.

Maybe, even literally.

Smoothing her silk dress, Amy swung her hips and clicked her heels across the marble tiles. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she forcefully pushed herself in between Ian and the aforementioned bimbo. Her breasts were pushed up against Ian's chest and her hand swept across his taut abdomen. Her emerald eyes caught his amber ones. "Excuse me, _love_." Her cool breath whispered across in a soft purr.

As she walked away, she heard him suck in a breath and felt his eyes follow her like a shadow in the dark. Amy smiled to herself as the heat made way for the pride that was spreading throughout her body like a cooling wind. Maybe now she could join Sinead on the dance floor.

Just as she had reached the ground floor, someone grabbed her hand and pulled her into darkness. Amy let out a surprised gasp as she was pushed up hard against a wall.

"_Hello love,_" a familiar British accent drawled into her ear.

If she was the least bit sane (or sensible) right now, Amy would have backed the hell up and gotten out of dodge. But as it were, she had enough alcohol in her system to give her a little sass and a whole lot of courage.

"Ian, how _nice_ to see you. Where's your friend?" She murmured teasingly, pale fingers brushed down the side of his face.

Ian Kabra leaned back to look at her, his head angled as if seeing her in a new light and his face featured a look of surprise before a playful smirk made its way across. "Amy Cahill, are you _drunk_?"

"Possibly," she rolled her bare shoulders into a shrug. She stood on her toes to whisper into his ear. "Are you going to take advantage of this fact, Ian?" The challenge gleamed in her eyes.

Ian had his hands flat on the wall, arms on either side of her as he stared at her thoughtfully, his eyes darkening at her defiance. The adorable, playful pout on her face became more impossible to resist as she offered a tantalizing view of smooth flesh. Her ivory skin was luminous, glowing from the hot air, in the dim light.

"Perhaps."

"Well, what are we waiting for?"

Then she took the plunge and pulled his head down to meet her lips in a searing kiss. Abruptly taken aback by her boldness, Ian tilted her head back for easier access, his arms tightly around her, caging her soft curves between the wall and his hard body. She parted her teeth and he moved his tongue deep inside, plundering her mouth, touching her in a blatant manner.

Amy knew she shouldn't be doing this in the open, but she couldn't help it. Ian's firm body felt positively delicious pressed up against her. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she sunk her fingers in his thick mass of dark silky hair, causing a low growl to echo from his throat. Feeling her body heat up to unimaginable levels, she kissed him hard, lips eager for his as he drove her into the wall, desperate to touch every inch of her.

Ian, frustrated at the height difference, shifted his hands to cup her backside and lifted her up. She broke the kiss with a gasp and leaned her head back against the wall, unable to help the soft moans as he made his way across her pale neck. "Ian – " her voice broke off, as he cupped a breast through the silky material of her dress.

Amy couldn't help, but arch in response, her breaths coming out as deep pants as he caressed and rubbed her breast. She reached forward to grasp his head and force him back to her lips. Ian was ruthless as his lips moved against hers, absorbing her taste, wanting, _needing_ to claim her as his own.

"Your legs," Ian breathed as his tongue nipped and licked along her jaw and down her neck to the middle of her cleavage. She pressed her back to the wall and lifted her legs to twine around his hips, his hands gripped her even tighter. She felt his hardness pressing into her lower stomach and pools of excitement swirled in response. His breathing grew ragged as his gaze trapped her in the animalistic possession she found there, pressing his erection snugly against her.

Her body on an overdose of pleasure as she felt every muscle and bulge of Ian's physique, Amy sought to add more fuel to the fire between their bodies. Her hand made its way into his pants and stroked the bulge over his boxers, causing Ian to make a guttural sound. His head fell to her shoulder as he panted into her neck, hoarse breaths rolling out, mixed with low groans that made her skin hum with desire. Desperate to feel more of her, he began thrusting in between her thighs in reaction, making them both shudder with delight at the friction.

The most tempting little moan escaped her mouth before Ian's mouth crashed onto hers, kissing her wildly, swallowing her gasps as one hand slipped under her dress and the other reached to pull down one side of her dress. A milky breast capped with a pink nipple was revealed as Ian leaned down to take the tight nub into his mouth. Amy quickly bit down hard into his shoulder to muffle her shrieks of pleasure as he licked and sucked at her eagerly, wanting to hear more of her passionate cries.

"Ian, Ian" she whispered raggedly as he continued his rhythm of grounding his desire into her, her fingers weaving into his hair. Her moans rung loudly in his ear, driving him harder to get as close to her as possible. Every part of her body felt on fire, her heart thundered in her ears as she arched to meet his thrusts. Things were hot and volatile as their desires for each other soared to unbearable heights.

And then, the sprinklers went off.

Shouts and shrieks followed as the music abruptly turned off and water poured over the steamy atmosphere, soaking everything and everyone in sight. The lights turned on and reality came crashing down.

Still in their corner of the club, Amy and Ian froze in their positions, their eyes wide and staring at each other with mixed emotions. He still held her up with her legs wrapped around his torso and she still had her arms around his neck, her fingers still buried in his hair and part of her body exposed.

"Oh, God," Amy quietly murmured into Ian's neck, as she quickly pulled her soaking strapless dress back on. What had she done? The water had thrown her back into reality and while she wasn't fully sober, some rational thought was back in her mind.

"Ian, let me go!" She hissed sharply, her green eyes darting around, checking to see if anyone was near them. But people were too busy abandoning the club and no one noticed the young couple near the stairs.

"Would love to, darling, but I _can't_." He forcefully gritted the words out, the frustration written all over his face. A dark flush spread across her cheeks as she remembered _exactly_ why he couldn't let her leave. _She_ had caused that. Amy Cahill had aroused Ian Kabra. Had _almost_ done the deed with him.

Amy untangled her hands from the back his neck and looked at him, teeth gnawing anxiously on her bottom lip. "Let me down. I won't leave."

Ian let out a sigh, but did as she asked, her body sliding down his, every soft curve pressed into his causing him to groan in protest. He lowered his head to whisper into her ear. "Love, I'm begging you. For the love of God, please stop tempting me."

If it was possible, Amy's blush intensified tenfold at his words and she felt her body burn with embarrassment. Then feeling a chill in the air, she wrapped her arms around his torso and buried her head into his chest. "Sorry," she mumbled, unconsciously stroking his back.

After a few minutes of standing there in each other's embrace, Ian finally breathed a sigh of relief as he felt his body's temperature cool down. He bent down to nuzzle her (now-ruined) auburn hair. Even with the water, she still smelled like lavender. "Are you still cold?" He had noticed her shivering and the goosebumps decorating her pale skin and mentally cursed the sprinklers going off. She was going to get sick.

"Not as much as when the water came down," she shook her head. "I'm okay. Do you see the others?" Ian, feeling a mixture of amusement and pride, noticed that she was steadfastly avoiding his gaze again as she did earlier in the night. He thought it was a bit late to be shy, but this was Amy Cahill and good lord, did he love her.

Lifting his head back up, he kept his arms around her as he looked over around the club. There were still plenty of club goers still around, but he couldn't see the rest of the Cahills over the crowd of people. Noticing the obvious shiver that just ran through the redhead, Ian took off his suit jacket and wrapped it around her small, shaking frame, ignoring her protests.

"It's just a suit, Amy" he quietly said, his hand cupped her cold ivory cheek as his eyes radiated the most honesty she had ever seen in him. "As a gentleman, I couldn't stand by and let you freeze to death."

She watched as he shook the water out of his now-floppy inky black hair. A soft giggle escaped her lips before she could stop it and his head jerked up to stare at her in wide-eyed surprise. "You look like a puppy," Amy half-cooed and half-laughed, her fingers reaching up to push his hair away from his eyes.

"And you look beautiful," Ian couldn't help, but blurt out. And she did. She stood there barefoot (her heels having fallen off during their tryst, he guessed) in a lovely purple dress, tiny frame engulfed in _his_ jacket. His words silenced her as emerald eyes gazed at him with an emotion he couldn't quite pinpoint, but he hoped it was something positive.

Though her head was still dizzy from the alcohol and the passionate _whatever_ with Ian, Amy felt her feelings bubble under the surface as a pink tint covered her cheeks again, but she dared not say anything, not knowing at all what to say to his out of character sincerity.

"Are you ready to go?" A hand was offered to her. She tentatively looked up and saw him waiting patiently for her answer.

And when she took it, a boyish smile lifted his lips and deep (and, in her opinion, beyond adorable) dimples appeared. Dark chocolate eyes gazed at her with a shyness she had also never seen before on him. Who _was_ this Ian Kabra that acted so hesitantly around her?

Neither said a word about what had happened just a short while ago before the sprinklers had gone off, throwing them back into real life. Amy didn't regret what had happened (even though she was insanely embarrassed that she had had so much alcohol to begin with that she had essentially thrown herself at Ian – she also mentally cursed Natalie Kabra for goading her), but she nervously wondered if Ian did. But she noticed how his smooth hand gripped hers tightly, as if she would float away if he wasn't careful. _Maybe not_, she hoped from the bottom of her heart.

"Ian?" She uncertainly whispered, as they stood amongst the other club goers on the way out. The atmosphere inside the club had cooled immensely with no more pulsing beats, writhing bodies and gleaming neon lights. The room felt almost tolerable compared to the uncomfortable humidity before as the sprinklers slowly drizzled away, leaving nothing but moistness in the air.

He didn't answer as they slowly moved towards the towering doors, but instead had a steely determination in his eyes as he made sure to keep her from being elbowed anywhere by any drunk guests. "Yes, love?" He finally replied, looking directly at her.

Whether the quiver was from the icy Parisian air as they neared the door or from the single focus he had on her, Amy was immensely grateful for his jacket at that point. She patiently waited until they were ushered out the door to say anything, but once again, Ian had managed to catch her by surprise by wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close to his side.

"Do you want to sit?" Ian looked over the heads of the people and spotted an untaken bench a few feet away. His damp white shirt was emphasizing every sinewy muscle on his upper body and that little fact hadn't escaped a fair few female eyes near them even though he ignored the attention.

She nodded, shivering as she pushed herself closer to his body's heat. Remembering just how close she had just gotten to him recently had her blushing from head to toe all over again. And by the time they sat down, the Lucian had clearly noticed the color change on her pale skin. Smiling with amusement, he cocked his head to the side in plain curiosity as he watched her. "Dare I ask?"

Her auburn locks trembled as she shook her head furiously.

Letting out a deep sigh, Amy watched as her breath puffed out in front of her from the cold air. The lights of Paris shimmered in the darkness of the night like a sea of stars. And they still held hands – her in her wet dress and his jacket, holding onto her heels, he in his drenched shirt and pants.

"Ian, I—" Her mind anxiously searching for what she wanted to say. To explain, to say _anything_ about what had happened earlier.

He shook his head, muting her with a small wistful smile and his dark, dreamy eyes captivating her emerald depths, piercing into her soul, into her heart. "We'll always have Paris."

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**Notes:** Cupcakes to you if you noticed all three parts of the quote I 'fulfilled.'


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